


Cruel Comfort

by Stariceling



Category: Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, DC_Yaoi Kink Meme, Death References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinichi is beyond saving. Gin finds his sins endearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Gin x Shinichi- _not_ noncon.
> 
> I must warn you that this is still **not** a happy fic by any stretch. Takes place in a rather darker alternate future. (Shinichi should be in his 20s at this point, having gotten his body back.)

Black doesn’t look good on Shinichi. It lends a pale quality to his face and highlights the bruises under his eyes until he looks as if he belongs at a funeral.

It’s no wonder, then, that Gin strips him out of those black clothes as soon as possible. Shinichi’s skin is a beautiful canvas littered with scars. Even before Gin invites him to bed he’s already tracing his fingers over the mark of an old gunshot wound in Shinichi’s side.

Every scar is a memory. A stupid mistake, a careless moment, a calculated risk leading to that hot flash of pain and blood.

Gin reviews them with fingers and tongue. He rolls Shinichi on one side to get at his back, where the scars have multiplied until they can’t help but cross over each other. Shinichi doesn’t comment on the position. He carelessly reaches back to get at Gin’s long hair, pulling at it and draping it over his shoulder like a security blanket. His fingers carelessly tangle and comb through the trailing strands as he seemingly ignores the feeling of Gin rediscovering him.

Perfect and flawed all at once, Shinichi constantly struggles between extremes, seemingly blind to the middle ground. He’s never had a single witness to silence, never left a single loose end for a curious civilian to stumble upon, never missed a single kill shot. . . and yet no matter what Gin does he simply cannot be taught to stop letting people sneak up on him.

It’s a form of masochism. Shinichi is too proud to hurt himself, so he lets the traitorous petty criminals he tracks do it for him. Sometimes Gin suspects it would be more merciful if he hurt Shinichi as well, but he has no interest in going out of his way to abuse the young man sharing his bed.

Gin only takes time to visit a few of his favorite marks and inspect the newest scar in Shinichi’s collection, a pale, thin slash from a knife wound high on his hip, before he lets Shinichi roll onto his back. For the last three months Shinichi has been off tracking down the syndicate’s latest ‘problem,’ pretending at normalcy along the way, and Gin hasn’t had a single decent fuck in that time.

Some nights Shinichi is all pride and anger, sharp and vicious in every way possible. Gin loves it when his lover gets that way. He lets Shinichi take charge and savors every bite mark and bruise. Unfortunately it looks like it will take some time before Shinichi will get that feisty again. Undercover work always leaves Shinichi insensible, and something about this latest job needs to be pushed out of his head before he’ll be in any shape to play rough.

He reaches up and buries his fingers in Gin’s hair to ask for the kiss a moment before Gin delivers it. There is no prick of fingernails to turn it into a demand. Shinichi has cut them down to the quick and his cuticles have eroded from relentless scrubbing.

Gin captures Shinichi’s mouth while his hands stroke over that athletic body. Shinichi’s stomach is tense and trembling, and he’s already aroused by the time Gin’s hands find him. He opens up willingly to Gin’s advances, but it isn’t until after Gin is inside that Shinichi shows some of his usual spark.

Waking from the ennui that has held him all evening, Shinichi arches up desperately in a silent demand for more. His tongue plunges into Gin’s mouth and tries to claim it with the youthful impatience that Gin has missed these past few months. His fingers rake down Gin’s back, scrabbling to draw blood and failing, but Gin appreciates the effort all the same.

Shinichi isn’t even trying to play at cold and aloof anymore. He grabs for Gin’s waist, digging his fingers in so hard that there will be bruises to admire in the morning, and pulls Gin into him with every thrust, as if he is the one in control.

When Shinichi slumps back into the bed, shuddering and panting, Gin lets him be. For now they are both alive and satiated, and in such a violent and uncertain world that is worth enough for Gin. Besides, Shinichi is at his most beautiful like this, spread out on the white sheets.

Gin admires the view because he knows it won’t last long. Soon enough Shinichi climbs out of bed without a word and leaves the room. Gin uses a tissue to wipe Shinichi’s seed from his stomach and lights a cigarette, waiting for the sound of the shower that starts up just a minute later.

It’s the job that Shinichi is trying to wash away, not the sex. He thinks of himself as utterly corrupted, beyond saving, one of the deadly men in Black down to the bone. Gin finds it endearing. Shinichi still utterly detests bombs and refuses to resort to torture. He is the sort of innocent who not only counts up every kill, but even pads the numbers with the people he has failed to save.

Shinichi should never have survived this long. Gin had looked forward to seeing his dying face, but somehow he is always too brilliant and useful to get rid of, too lucky to just die, and too stubborn to snap under the weight of his own guilt. He has hung on long enough that Gin prefers him like this, haunted and unbreakable. By now Gin is fiercely territorial of his lover, and if anyone is ever going to put a bullet through Shinichi’s pretty little brain it is going to be him.

The shower shuts off sooner than Gin expects, he isn’t even done with his smoke, and a few minutes later Shinichi returns. He hasn’t bothered with clothes, and if he cares that Gin is enjoying the view he makes no sign.

Sitting sideways on the bed, he steals the last stub of Gin’s cigarette from between his lips. He takes a shallow drag, coughs, then takes a deeper one. There isn’t enough left for Gin to concern himself with, but enough for Shinichi to play with as he uses his tongue to roll the filter between his lips.

Gin waits until Shinichi stabs out the cigarette before he turns off the lights and drags the young man down in the darkness with him. Shinichi doesn’t startle at the sudden movement, just gives Gin a sharp elbow in the ribs for trying to spoon him. Apparently he’s not in the mood to be held tonight. They have shared a bed far too many times for any of it to be a surprise.

It’s obvious from the dark bruises under his eyes that Shinichi rarely gets a good night’s rest, yet at Gin’s side he always sleeps like the dead. Perhaps he simply feels safe knowing that if Gin decides to kill him in the night, he will wake him up first. Whatever the reason, a deep, long sleep will help to revive Shinichi, and Gin expects he will be more fun in the morning.

Gin knows what he is doing, and he knows it’s the cruelest thing he could possibly do. Every time Shinichi starts to fall into that dead-eyed stupor, Gin seduces him with physical pleasures until he remembers he is alive again. Shinichi will never break, but he will also never escape himself, any more than he can escape the syndicate. Gin won’t let him.

Once you mix even a little black in with white it can never go back to being just white again. Maybe Shinichi is right that he will never again be the untainted upholder of justice he once was, and maybe for him that is something to mourn. All Gin knows is that no matter how many crimes and sins are piled on, no matter how much of the syndicate’s black is mixed in, Shinichi will never completely be one of them.

That is exactly how Gin likes it, because black just doesn’t suit Shinichi.


End file.
